


Farewell

by Tazou



Category: Eldarya (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Death of Lover, Drabble, F/M, Heavy Angst, More like dramatique than angsty, Tragedy, lol started laughing at the quality, there's way better angst than this, this is so over the top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-30 22:29:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8551633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tazou/pseuds/Tazou





	

Lost time floated endlessly in the haunting abyss of pretty dreams. Memories that should have been, memories that have been, memories that have never been all compiled into a single regret. He woke to the cold emptiness of a bed. No amount of blankets or cushions restored the warmth. Winter alone lasted for a long time. Maybe it had always been winter? But no matter. This was his punishment in the end.

He trained from morning to evening. And whatever time left was taken by basic needs of food and water and assigned missions. Dummies lay in shambles after one week and often had to be replaced. The boys offered to spar—even some from his own guard— but they all tired in the end. But Valkyon continued. He had to continue. Today, he readied his weapon against the wooden dummy. What was his purpose at this point? Nothing mattered anymore. At the end of the day, he was a weapon to protect and defend. That's all. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing could matter anymore since she was taken away.

Thunk. The dummy shuddered from the force. To him, she shined brighter than the stars: charisma to where even the plants bowed down, eyes full of wonder for a cruel world, laughter so melodious that not even the best instrument compared. There was the sort of charming wit that irritated and attracted Valkyon time after time. Thunk. But all beautiful lights were destined to fade out. Thunk. That day refused to vanish from his weeping mind.

The wood shrieked as it cracked. Yet he hit it. Over and over and over. Yes, that day. That gruesome day she allowed herself to become a mere shell. A puppet. This path of betrayal, she once said, was the only path to take.

"Don't apologize. It's the only place where I feel I have a purpose. Not here...Goodbye."

And only disgust filled him while those thorns wrapped around her. They whispered lies and paranoia. And he blamed himself for her leaving. His fault that she strayed from everything in favor of nothing. It was...ironic. Like that dryad, that woman allowed herself to ingest a piece of crystal. Embers danced in the smoke. And while the city burned from a direct assault, they faced off against each other. And yet. And yet...! He could not deliver the finishing blow as she, in a frenzied state, lay on the ground. Those eyes he admired only glared with a burning hatred; those lips he kissed in the summer gloom now snarled as rage clouded her judgement. But he could not move. In that moment, she got to her feet and was about to strike. Were it a second earlier...Death by her hands...Was it something he could accept?

Instead, his eyes widened when that rapier impaled her chest. Soon after, knives soared through the air and smothered any attempt to retaliate. Then, she laughed. Her melodious laughter turned into a fit of coughing, and the piece of crystal dropped to the ground. The body soon sagged and fell like a broken doll after Ezarel pulled out the blade in one fluid motion. Blood stained his clothes and part of his cheek. Meanwhile, Nevra caught up to them and tried to catch his breath.

"It's fine to hate me," the elf said.

"Ez...Talk later...The fire..." Nevra pulled his scarf to cover his face and to muffle his coughs. "Come on...!"

"But..."

"Go. I'll...catch up," Valkyon said.

The two men glanced at each other; they sprinted toward the source of the flames. And he...fell to his knees. And cried, no, screamed at the world.

Finally, he stopped. The training dummy turned into a pile of wood again. He set aside his weapon and cleaned up the mess. A nostalgic sunset painted itself on the horizon as he returned to his room. These days, exhaustion was the only thing to put him to sleep. And when he closed his eyes, a fond, unforgettable memory played.

He had lost Floppy again. After hours of searching, he stumbled upon that melodious laughter. She sat against a windowsill and looked out toward the collage of orange and pinks and blues. Floppy rolled around in the palm of her hand, and she laughed. That woman then saw his standing in the hall; the way she moved caused the light to reflect in a certain manner. She was dazzling. Too dazzling. Their gazes met.

"Ah, this is your familiar? Quite cute!"

But then that memory started to break. It shattered into pieces. Pieces that descended into oblivion. And all the while, her voice reverberated in that darkness. Mocked him. Scolded him. Yelled at him. Oh, the failure. The guilt. He was drowning.


End file.
